


Three Years

by Broken_Cinders



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Sam Winchester is Jack Kline's Parent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:09:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26126281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Broken_Cinders/pseuds/Broken_Cinders
Summary: Sam remembers Jack’s birthday every year.
Relationships: Jack Kline & Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Three Years

**Author's Note:**

> Not mine. Like at all. Also, I took a few liberties with the timeline. The problem is, we never get a real, set date for some of these things, so I took a stab at what felt natural for the pacing of the series and of course what hit hardest for me in the fic.

_May 18, 2018_

Sam is wandering through the aisles of the little corner market on the outskirts of town when it hits him. It’s been one year since Jack was born. Sam’s not sure how to feel about that, but he knows the bunker feels empty without him now. There’s no way Sam can let the day pass even if he fully intends on doing something with Jack later.

He does the same thing he’s done for every birthday he and Dean have ever spent apart. He buys one of those single cupcakes and a candle. He picks up a candy bar too, grinning at the memory of Jack trying to lick up the last of the chocolate smeared in the corner of his mouth. 

It seems a meager offering for someone’s first birthday. Sam isn’t sure what you get a one year old who looks like a teenager. Dean, he knows, would mark the occasion with Jack’s first adult magazine. It’s so quintessentially Dean that Sam can’t imagine him doing anything else. It’s silly and fun and all exactly right coming from Dean, but Sam wants something more. Jack has filled up so much of his life at this point, he doesn’t want his first birthday gift to be silly or trite. 

What does Jack like, anyway? When Sam was about the age Jack _looks_ , he wanted things that made him feel normal – a nice meal with friends, his own copies of his favorite books, a set of sheets to call his own – things to show he had put down roots. Sam recognizes the same hungry need to belong in Jack, but he’s given him all the trappings of settled that he knows how to provide. 

Jack loves adventure movies. He imitates all of Dean’s more outrageous mannerisms and laughs at road runner cartoons. He wants to be a hunter more than anything. It’s this last detail that gives Sam an idea. 

He means to wait until they bring Jack home. He probably shouldn’t be buying presents until they know for sure one way or another. Logic says waiting a few weeks won’t exactly change anything, but he can’t help himself. He stops by the local book store on his way home. 

When he walks out, he’s holding a leather journal. It’s plain, nothing fancy or special really, but it’s almost exactly the same as the ones he and Dean use. That’s more important than fancy leatherwork or special paper. Maybe it’s a silly thing to give to an immortal being when he could potentially outlive their very planet, but it’s definitely a piece of the Winchester legacy he can share. 

Sam’s first journal was one of the few things he received from his dad that he cherished through everything, even the estrangement of college. It had been his thirteenth birthday present. Even under the weight of hunting he’d taken obsessive care of the little book he’d been presented with, all the more precious because it hadn’t been a gift Dean had already gotten. John didn’t do big birthday celebrations, but he did go in for significant gestures, gruffly presented and practical in nature. Sam and Dean had each received a silver knife when they turned sixteen and a flask at eighteen, but they’d had to earn the journals. Sam’s came just as he was starting to take over the brunt of research for hunts, and he used it cover to cover and then some. Dean didn’t get his until his first solo hunt.

He tucks the journal inside his jacket to sneak it past Dean. The last thing he wants is to have to answer a hundred questions or see that look Dean will give him. Instead, he slides it under his pillow and pretends it’s a normal day until his brother goes to bed. 

Once Dean is safely out of the way, he gathers everything up and slips into Jack’s room. He takes a moment to jot down a note on the front end-paper of the journal and leaves the book and the chocolate bar on the nightstand for Jack to find when he gets home. 

Sam sinks down onto the edge of the bed and pulls out the plastic container that holds his cupcake. He flips open the lid so he can add the little swirly candle. When he lights the wick, he just watches the little flame dance for a few moments. He can’t help but wonder where jack is, if he’s all right, if he even knows what his birthday is. The wax starts to run. Sam blows out the candle. 

“Happy birthday, Jack.”

He eats the cupcake and hides the wrapper under a layer of debris in the kitchen trash so Dean won’t see it.

_May 18, 2019_

This year, Sam can’t stomach the thought of not marking the day somehow although it makes his lungs freeze in his chest to even think about Jack. There’s no secret gift, no setting aside a little something for a reunion. He slips out the back door of the high school and walks until he finds a quiet spot on a bridge over a stream. He doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going. It’s not a secret, but it is private. 

He doesn’t care if Dean knows this time. They should probably share this the same way they’ve shared most of the grief in their lives, but he can’t. He and Dean have never exactly seen eye to eye on who Jack is. Sam jealously thinks there’s no way Dean cared as much as he did. It’s an irrational thought, one he’ll feel guilty about later. There’s not much forgiving all the wrong they’ve both done in the short time they knew him, but Dean’s not the one who has to live with knowing he betrayed Jack’s trust and started the spiral that led them all here.

Sam sends up a small prayer. It’s short. He doesn’t have much to say beyond I’m sorry and I miss you and happy birthday. He doesn’t even know if Jack can hear him wherever he is now. Without a soul could Jack go to heaven or hell or purgatory? Was he in the empty? Did he just cease to exist? Was there some other place where the soulless went when they died? After all these years doing this job, after all they’d learned about passing on, there were still so many questions left unanswered.

This year’s cupcake is hideous. The only thing he could find was some pastel, rainbow monstrosity covered in little unicorn sprinkles. Jack would have loved it. The kid’s got a sweet tooth a mile wide. 

It’s a better thought than remembering how he looked splayed out on the cemetery grass with his eyes burnt out, barely more than smoking pits in his face. He looked so broken laying there. Sam can barely look at his body now as that demon parades it around. It’s a constant reminder of all he lost in those few short seconds. It aches worse because it isn’t Jack. The body is familiar, but the mannerisms are all wrong. Even his voice is gratingly different. 

This time when Sam lights the candle, he doesn’t blow it out. He watches it burn down until it’s sputtering in the melting frosting. There’s wax all over the swirls of sweet rainbow. Small purple flecks make the top layer of sugar inedible. 

Sam leans back against the bridge railing still gripping the cupcake in his hand. 

He gazes up into the deep sky, just turning a velvet blue after the sunset. It’s immense, but there aren’t any stars yet. It’s just a cloudless expanse he could imagine going on forever. He hopes against everything that Jack has found some peace somewhere out there in all the expanses of this universe. He deserves that much. 

Sam sits up. He swipes his sleeve over his eyes and stares down at the cupcake, now a melted, wax-speckled mess that’s threatening to ooze onto his fingers. The idea of eating turns his stomach, but he can’t stand the thought of throwing it away either. Instead he leaves it sitting on the bridge railing as he turns to trudge back up to the high school and all the people still counting on him. 

_May 18, 2020_

The world is probably about to end in flame or a tide of monsters or maybe a flood if Chuck is feeling particularly biblical. None of it would surprise Sam. Even Jack has taken on that seriousness that comes from the weight of dealing with the end of the world. Of all the Winchester traits, Sam had hoped to spare him that thread of grimness. Jack should be those carefree grins and shy laughter. He shouldn’t look like he’s about to go into battle.

Despite the bigger picture, they find ways to celebrate. Jack gets a plate of pancakes and that magazine Sam knew Dean would give him eventually. Cas takes him aside during the day and whatever they do together makes him smile for the rest of the afternoon. There’s a little lunch with a ridiculous hat and even a few balloons. 

Sam spends most of the day trying to decide whether he even has a right to be a part of the celebration after everything he’s done. He’s not really any closer to an answer about his worthiness when he finally decides that given the way the last year has gone, there’s a very good chance none of it will matter in a few more weeks. He’s been given a chance to at least try to make things right. He has one more birthday, this time with Jack there to actually celebrate. It would be the stupidest move he could make to let that pass. 

Today is about Jack and Jack deserves the full experience, especially if it’s the last one any of them can hope for. Besides, he knows Dean and Cas know. They’ve deliberately saved this for him. There were no talks of birthday cake or anything of the kind all day. 

It’s late when he finally pulls himself from his introspection and actually decides to face his fears. The bunker is quiet. Cas has gone for the evening, and Dean is safely in his room doing whatever it is he does behind closed doors. 

Sam pulls the meager cupcake from its hiding place in the kitchen cabinet, sticks the glitter candle shaped like the number 3 in the top, and slips down to Jack’s room. He knocks softly. He hides the cupcake behind his back just as Jack answers the door, grinning widely and looking a little bit like he did that first year, curious and happy. 

“Hi,” Sam says. He feels the butterflies in his stomach. This feels like a stupid idea. 

“Hi! I was wondering if you’d come.”

“Oh?”

Jack steps back so Sam can enter. “I just hadn’t seen you much today.”

“I have one more treat for you,” he says, instead of answering the unspoken question. “Kind of a birthday tradition.”

“Really? There’s more?” Jack’s eyes have gone impossibly wide. Sam can’t help chuckling at his expression.

“Only a little.” Sam takes a seat on the edge of the bed and pats the spot next to him. Jack bounces over to sit beside him. Sam holds the little cupcake up and says, “I brought cake and your birthday wish.”

Jacks face scrunches up in confusion. “A birthday wish? Like magic?”

“Well, no. It’s more just for fun. See, we light the candle. Then you think of something you really want for the next year. You make your wish as you blow out the flame. It’s not really magic or anything, but it’s fun and who knows? You might just get your wish.”

Jack looks at him with a mix of expressions. It’s like he can’t decide if he’s happy or sad or excited. “Is this what you did the other times too?”

“What do you mean?”

“The other times. The ones where you told me happy birthday.”

Sam has to clear his throat before he can hope to respond. “Every year. It’s tradition after all.” He pulls the lighter out of his pocket and wiggles it in his fingers. “What do you say? Want to give it a go?”

“Yes!” Jack bounces on the mattress with a grin. 

Sam flips the lighter open and strikes it. There’s a thick wax coating the wick of the candle that he has to melt down a bit before it finally catches. He thinks briefly about singing, but decides that might be a bit much. Instead, he holds the cake out and grins.

Jack takes it from him. He glances up over the top of the flame, still unsure. “I just make a wish and blow it out?”

Sam nods. 

“I wish we could be family again,” he says. Then he blows out the candle. 

Sam’s left staring at the wax number, the afterimage of the flame lingering as he processes Jack’s wish. “You shouldn’t say it out loud, or it might not come true.” It’s the kind of thing he would tease Dean with, and he only says it to fill up the silence. The words slip out before he’s thought about what he’s saying. Jack’s face falls.

Sam pulls him tight against his side. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. This one already has. You’ve got me. We’ll always be family. It’s been a rocky road and I haven’t been the best at holding up my end of things, but you’re stuck with me.”

Jack clings to him. “Do you mean it?”

“I mean it. And I’m sorry for everything. For not being willing to let you go. For making you choose. For betraying your trust. I know it’s a lot and I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I am sorry.”

“I thought you’d given up on me.”

Sam pulls back so he can look Jack in the eye. “Never.”

Jack nods and looks down at the cupcake in his hand. Sam nudges his arm. “Go ahead. It’s your day after all.”

Jack smiles and plucks the candle out of the frosting. He studies the smears of green and yellow where the sugar is stuck to the base, then licks it off. His eyes go wide as he realizes how sweet it is. 

Sam steals a little icing on his finger and licks it off. He can feel the cavities forming as he samples even that small bite, but it’s worth it to see Jack dive in, getting a glob of it on his nose in the process. They laugh together and Jack finishes his cupcake. When he’s done, Sam stands and ruffles his hair. 

“Happy birthday, Jack.”


End file.
